


Fiction vs. Fantasy

by PutItBriefly



Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-05
Updated: 2014-02-05
Packaged: 2018-01-11 05:54:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1169493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PutItBriefly/pseuds/PutItBriefly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Trunks' special relationship with his aunt leads to Bulma sharing some truths (and also some stuff she just made up) while Vegeta questions human child-rearing practices.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fiction vs. Fantasy

**Author's Note:**

> The character of Tights Briefs comes from Akira Toriyama's manga "Jaco the Galactic Patrolman." I did as much research as I could into Tights' interests and relationships, but I have not read the new manga firsthand.

Years ago, when Bulma first learned Son Goku was an alien, the first thing she did was call her sister.  

 

Tights' reply had been long minutes of choked laughter, interspersed with repeated cries of “I KNEW IT!”  The triumphant onslaught left no room for Bulma to add that the alien Goku had been slain in a fight with his equally alien brother.  Between the battle, the revelations and her sister's overpowering thrill at Bulma having an alien best friend, too, the idea of little Goku actually being dead was too surreal to even mention.  Bulma and Tights saw each other sparingly; Goku would probably be wished back by the time the sisters crossed paths again, anyway.

 

Sometime later, Bulma told her sister that she didn’t think interstellar travel was all that great.

 

Also, King Piccolo?  _Alien_.  God?  _Alien_.

 

Capsule Corp. playing host to the refugees of Old Namek inspired Tights to make her first extended visit home since Bulma was seven.  She spent the entire time pouncing on unsuspecting visitors and spiriting them away for interviews.  “Research is an important step in writing,” she claimed every time Bulma chided her rudeness.  The one guest Tights never managed to browbeat into an interview was the alien prince, Vegeta of the Saiyans.  He intimidated Tights, and while Bulma herself was a little too used to the scowling regent to mind him much anymore, Tights was understandably wary.

 

Two years after _that_ came the ‘I'm pregnant with a half-alien bastard’ conversation.  Tights, always the supportive sibling, had only one thing to say on the subject, “Now, you’re just trying to make me jealous.”

 

Bulma would never admit it, but trying to make her older sister _proud_ was one of the major motivating factors in her professional life.  And if she couldn't have Tights’ approbation for her professional accomplishments, well...  She could settle for making her sister jealous of her sex life.

 

Trunks was one and a half when Tights Briefs published a rather lewd and embarrassing romance novel about a human astronaut and her sexual encounters in the far reaches of space.

 

Despite being heavily based on Bulma's own life, this book, she argued, was not science fiction, but fantasy.  ("It's true," Tights had said, shit-eating grin plastered all over her smug face.  "It's not fiction at all."  "I have never fucked an alien in zero gravity," Bulma retorted.  "This _work of fantasy_ is straight from your imagination.")

 

(In all honesty, Bulma kind of liked the idea of experimenting with zero gravity booty calls, but Vegeta never would have gone for it.  Shame.)

 

Even more strongly than her interest in space sex, Bulma felt strongly about the distinction between _science fiction_ and _fantasy_.  Science fiction is defined by the scientific principles in the work.  Real scientific theories and practices must play a role in the plot and themes of science fiction.  Otherwise, the story is just a fantasy set in space.

 

As Trunks grew up, his aunt kept him on a steady diet of space-based fantasies.  The unknown reaches of space became a special secret shared between aunt and nephew. He learned to expect books from his aunt on every gift-giving occasion.  He taught himself to read them.     

 

Every night before Trunks went to bed, he would select a book from his shelf to read to his mother.  Bulma tried to explain to him that this is supposed to be the other way around, but even at six years old, Trunks was fierce about his independence and self-sufficiency.  He did not need anyone to read _to_ him.  

 

He never picked a space book.  Outer space was not for Mama or for Papa, according to Trunks.  Space was something only he and Aunt Tights understood.

 

It was strange and sweet and hilarious all at once.  Bulma loved that her son had a special relationship with his aunt, loved that they had a secret bond.  But once Trunks was able to articulate his rigid stance of privacy and parental inability to understand, Bulma realized that Trunks was operating under some very misguided assumptions that needed to be corrected. 

 

After tucking Trunks into bed on the evening Story Time was preempted by Fact Time, Bulma announced to Vegeta, “Your son has some interesting ideas.”    

 

His father grunted with disinterest.  Some of the things Trunks said were amusing in their misunderstanding of reality, but as far as Vegeta was concerned, nothing the child said was actually _interesting_.  

 

Bulma dropped the bombshell as directly as she could: "He didn't know you’re an alien."

 

"What does it matter?" Vegeta retorted.  The boy knew the derivative to use in reference to his father was _Saiyan_.  Anything more than knowledge of the basic biological differences between the two species was irrelevant.

 

“How can you even ask that?” Bulma demanded.  “Trunks deserves some way to process why he’s different from other kids.”    

 

Bulma’s idea of what human or half-human children could process had frustrated Vegeta for as long as he had been listening to Bulma prattle about it.  Humans coddled their children and then insisted they were incapable of doing anything for themselves.  Humans lied to children and then cried to the heavens because their offspring misunderstood the natural world.  Bulma consistently insisted upon demeaning Trunks’ intelligence; Vegeta was consistently forced to re-educate him.    

 

In many respects, the stubborn woman understood that her hybrid child could not be constrained by human notions, but in others, her human sentimentality prevailed.  She chose to prolong Trunks’ period of dependence as much as she could for her own fulfillment.  Having long since accepted his responsibility as the rational parent, Vegeta said, "Tell him whatever you want."

 

"Oh, good," Bulma said, with a hint of nervous laughter.  "Because I already started telling him about your past."

 

That surprised him.  It wasn’t her story to tell. From the nervous lilt in her voice, Vegeta knew Bulma was already having second thoughts about whatever information she gave the child.  Nothing about Trunks’ life on Earth would have prepared him for Vegeta’s life in the Planet Trade Organization.  That Bulma thought Trunks will be capable of accepting this, while she thought him incapable of so many other things, was unprecedented.  "You won't let me tell him that his food comes from creatures that used to be alive, but you'll tell my child that I have murdered billions of sentient beings."

 

Bulma winced.  "No...no, I didn't tell him that.  I just told him that you aren't from this planet, that you were born in another place and that you got here in a space ship."

 

It was more reasonable than Vegeta had anticipated.  It may still be too much to hope, but maybe there was some sort of system governing her child-rearing practices after all.  Still, in light of what he had seen in the past six years, he found it unlikely.  "You're always going off about concepts he 'can't' understand at his 'developmental stage,'” Vegeta protested.  The distaste he has for such human concepts rang clear.  “This you think he understands?"

 

"Duh,” Bulma snorted.  “He watches cartoons, Vegeta.  He has MY SISTER as an aunt.  He gets that aliens are a thing.  Honestly, he was fine with it because Saiyans are so different from humans, and both of us are different from Piccolo and Eighteen."

 

Another surprise, this one more pleasant.  Vegeta had not thought Trunks so perceptive.  "He has noticed the difference between living things and the artificial contraption?"    

 

"I don’t know that ‘noticed’ is the right word,” Bulma mused.  “He picked up on how most of the adults in his life were surprised when Marron was born, and that prompted some questions...”  She trailed off, not wanting to let the conversation steer too off-topic.  Bulma smirked.  “But that's not even the interesting part."

 

His wife had taken a very long time to reach this so called interesting part.  Vegeta very much doubted it would live up to the hype.  "There's more," he said.  There always seemed to be _more_ once Bulma started talking. 

 

She nodded.  "I was telling him about your planet --"

 

"-- you know nothing of my planet."

 

She was, as always, undeterred, "-- about how it was called Vegeta and it isn't there anymore.  And _this_ is the interesting part."

 

"Odd,” Vegeta all but growled, “I've never considered the destruction of my race and my failure to avenge my people as 'interesting.'"

 

"He asked me how come your name and the planet's name were the same," Bulma continued, as though he’d never said a word.

 

"The planet was named for the leader of the Saiyan conquest, my ancestor," Vegeta interjected.  “As was I.”

 

Bulma shrugged.  “I told him you were named after the planet.  You probably ought to be more open about this stuff.  Anyway, he thought that was silly and started laughing at the idea of someone being named after Earth."

 

His eyes narrowed, eyebrows digging a harsher angle into his face than they did naturally.  "Do not encourage my offspring to laugh at me."

 

Though most of her friends were still unsure about Vegeta, his glares had no potency on his wife.  "And then he asked why,” Bulma continued, “so I told him it's because you were the prince.”

 

Here, Bulma paused.  She had carried on through most of the story without caring much about Vegeta’s opinions or interruptions of her narrative.  Trunks‘ lack of knowledge had surprised her.  As for Vegeta’s response to their son being educated -- Bulma didn’t know what to expect.  

 

“He didn't know that,” She said.  “Vegeta.  He doesn't know.  How the _hell_ have you not told your son that you are the prince of the Saiyans?  You tell EVERYONE that.  Usually, its the first thing you say when you meet someone new.  And here we've had Trunks for _six years_ \-- and he had _no idea_."

 

The news was unexpected, unwelcome.  He had never appreciated Bulma’s attitude towards his justified pride in his heritage, but for now, that was a secondary concern.  What Bulma had told Trunks, Vegeta was not prepared for him to know.  

 

"You should not have told him."

 

"I wouldn't have if I realized fast enough that he NEEDED to be told,” Bulma said, defensive.  “I thought you would have mentioned it about a billion times by now.  Based on, you know, your interactions with _everyone_."

 

"I chose not to tell him,” Vegeta replied.  

 

“Why?” exploded from her mouth in a tone of almost accusatory incredulity.

 

He sighed, annoyed.  “I am familiar with your Earthling expectations towards royalty."

 

Bulma shrugged.  "So the King of Earth is a figurehead.  So what?  Trunks isn't going to be really concerned with how the monarchy worked on your planet versus this one."

 

"I am speaking of your stories,” Vegeta corrected.  “The moral fables children are told and told."

 

"Fairy tales?” Bulma asked.  “You know _fairy tales_?  How the hell did that happen?"

 

“They are unavoidable,” he explained.  “Everything humans create for the consumption of children has one of these stories attached.  Trunks is not able to do anything without one of these characters appearing, usually attempting to frighten him into obedience."

 

Bulma rolled her eyes.  "Like it’s worked."

 

Her melodramatic interference does not amuse him.  "He’s been shown time and again that a prince is a romantic hero.”

 

Bulma laughed.  "I think Trunks' view of you is just a _little_ more realistic than thinking you are going to slay a dragon to rescue a princess.  Or,” she added, once she’d taken into account the hereditary nature of such titles, “that that's the job you have in mind for him."

 

"On Planet Vegeta, the title of prince implied a very different set of responsibilities."

 

"I know, I know,” Bulma interjected, “strongest there is, grand high poobah of murder, probably some monkey stuff."

 

He glared.  "I don't want his head filled with fictions."

 

"He's six!”  Bulma cried.  “Fiction is everywhere!  He will learn to tell the difference between real and fake.  And he can start _right now_ if you actually take the time to tell him the truth!”

 

"To what end?” Vegeta questioned.  “He has no inheritance.”

 

“To be honest with him,” Bulma answered.  “He can't _not_ know.  It's a part of him.  This is his father and his grandparents and great-grandparents we're talking about.  You are a big part of shaping him; this shaped _you_.  Just because there's no castle waiting for him -- or whatever royal people had on your planet -- doesn't mean he should be ignorant."

 

“The things he learns from me,” Vegeta replied, “will be things he can experience for himself.”

 

Bulma frowned.  “I never for a second thought this would be something you don’t want him to know.  Is that how Saiyan families are?  If its not directly applicable to the kids’ lives, they just don’t get to know?”

 

“It doesn’t matter.  What we’ve done with him so far is nothing like how a Saiyan would grow up.  There’s no sense in trying to raise him Saiyan now.”

 

“I’m sorry I brought this up,” Bulma groaned.  “If you don’t want to raise him Saiyan and you don’t like the human way to do it, what are you going for here?” 

 

Bulma was in luck because this was a question Vegeta spent years asking himself.  He had long since come up with the answer.  "I want the boy to trust me."

 

This made her smile.  "He does.  Completely."

 

"He won't,” Vegeta replied, “once he knows the life I've lived.  Everything about this planet will teach him that someone who has done the things I’ve done is not to be trusted."  He snorted.  “I know it’s your hope that I’ve somehow learned to regret it all.”

 

The chill in his words made Bulma wrap her arms around herself to stave off his coldness.  She knew in her heart he must regret some of it, if only because he feared his past would damage him in his son’s eyes.  "If,” she suggested cautiously, “if we do this right...If we prepare him now with the foundations...when he's old enough to process the rest of it, it'll be okay.  And, we don't need to tell him everything.  Just...the big parts."

 

Vegeta shook his head.  "Your 'foundations' will allow him to spend his formative years creating fantasies."

 

"Kids have imaginations,” Bulma parried.  “He'll learn to tell fact from fantasy as he grows up."

 

"He will learn,” Vegeta bit back, “not to trust what we tell him."

 

“Here’s a crash course in human parenting,” Bulma huffed, “We tell our kids some _shit_.  Stories won’t hurt him.  They just help him make sense of the world around him.  When he gets older, we take out the pretty parts and slip in the ugly parts.  It’s not going to make him think we’re liars.  It’s not going to make us the enemy.”

 

He bore his teeth.  "I am the enemy."

 

Bulma rolled her eyes.  “Okay, fine.  Once upon a time, you came to Earth to kill us all.  But you totally didn’t, sucks for you.   Instead you got saddled with people that love you.  Boo-freaking-hoo.  You’re not the evil invader to Trunks.  You’re just his dad.”

 

“That will change.”

 

“Wow,” she sighed.  “You know, sometimes, I honestly forget how cynical you are since you hide it under so much bluster.  Yes, our relationship with him will change.  Yeah, we’ll be sad.  I’m already sad that he doesn’t let me read to him anymore.  I mean, I know _I_ had a comprehensive knowledge of astrophysics as a kid but it’s kind of annoying in someone else...  Ugh, I totally forget where I was going with this.  Look.  If he asks you questions, answer as honestly as you can, but don’t mention genocide until he’s at least ten, okay?”

 

Vegeta raised an eyebrow.  “Enlighten me on how I am to explain why I am the last full-blooded Saiyan alive without mentioning genocide.”

 

Bulma was sorely tempted to blow a raspberry, but due to the subject matter, managed to contain herself.  “Other people can commit genocide.  Just not you.  Till he’s like eleven.”

 

“You are making this up as you go.”

 

“Crash course in human parenting lesson two:” Bulma announced, voice loud and regal, “Make up a lot of it as you go, yeah.”

 

In the ensuing months, Trunks did not appear with any questions to lure his father into admitting things he would rather not.  By all accounts, he had quietly accepted what his mother told him that first evening and had nothing more to say on the subject.

 

Tights, however, nine years and one nephew braver, did begin a relentless series of questioning.  Vegeta followed Bulma’s advised about honesty, and since Tights was an adult, he didn’t shy away from unpleasant truths.

 

By the time Trunks was ten, he knew exactly who his father was.

 

By the time he was eleven, his aunt had a best-selling novel about a band of rebels’ last stand against an intergalactic warlord.  It was the realism that made the book such a success.  Even cushioned in its deep space setting, the struggles of the characters rang true to Earth audiences.  The depictions of war lost none of their brutality for featuring largely alien characters.

 

Bulma admitted freely that it was a great book.  But it was still _fantasy_.

 

 


End file.
